I wanna hold your hand
by gorgeousgossipgirl
Summary: Phoenix wants to hold Miles' hand.


They've been dating for two years.

And yet, Phoenix wondered, staring at Miles's back as they lay in bed together, exhausted, why they never did something quite public. Why they reverted back to their dysfunctional friendship when they were in public.

They were official. They were not simply friends with benefits. But why couldn't they show to the world that they had a relationship? Why couldn't they show Miles's frothing fans that he had chosen a male, his childhood friend, Phoenix Wright?

Was it the thought of being condemned because, not only were they two men who liked each other, they were rivals in the courtroom?

Prosecution and Defense. Blue and Red. Phoenix's passion, Miles's ability to stay cool. They were opposites, no doubt, but opposites attract.

But why was it this way? Phoenix wasn't able to even hold Miles's hand, and Miles wasn't able to say 'I love you' back.

He remembered when he and Miles were having dinner at Miles's house. He reached over to take Miles's hand, but Miles took it off the table and kept it on his lap, where Phoenix couldn't see, let alone touch it.

"Miles." He said, once they were done with their dinner, and Miles looked up. Gray met azure, and Phoenix cleared his throat.

"I love you."

There was a silence, and Phoenix felt himself grow red.

"That's nice." Was Miles's only answer. And he looked down and stared at the eaten remains of his dinner.

"Well?" Phoenix asked after another awkward silence.

"Well what, Wright?"

"Won't you say it back?"

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "Do I need to?"

"Well, it would be nice to hear back, you know, considering we're in a relationship."

"But I don't see the need to. After all, actions speak louder than words. I don't even have to say it." Miles answered, smirking.

Phoenix couldn't even answer. And Miles stood up, and headed to his room. Phoenix followed after a while, and behind closed doors, Miles showed Phoenix how much love he had for the spiky-haired man.

Phoenix appreciated it. But up to this day, he had no idea what the gray haired man even said to him.

He knew he should be thankful that he even had this relationship with Miles, but sometimes he wanted more.

Or less, in whichever way you wanted to take it.

He wanted to hold Miles's hand. He wanted their fingers intertwined, tangled in their own hopeless love story. Because he was sure, when he held that hand, he was sure he'd find home. He'd find peace. He was sure that the spaces between his fingers are right where Miles's fit perfectly.

So one day, he couldn't take it anymore. Miles was working late, and he couldn't sit still thinking about it. So he stood up, grabbing his jacket, and he let his feet take him.

It led him to the High Prosecutor's Office, no doubt. He took the elevator to the 12th floor, then entered Miles's office.

Miles was behind his desk, working on case files, and he looked up when Phoenix entered.

"Wright…what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"..I remember informing you that I was going to be working late tonight."

"I know, but is there anything wrong with me visiting my boyfriend?" He went over to take Miles's hand in his.

Miles flushed red, and quickly pulled his hand away from Wright's reach. He hid it underneath his desk, on his lap.

"Wright! This is a work place! I don't think it's suited for…this sort of activity or relations."

"But Miles! Why do you keep trying to push me away? You're my boyfriend, we've been dating, and I've never actually been able to hold your hand!"

"Wright, I…"

But he never got to finish that sentence.

As if on cue, Phoenix started singing, and Miles forgot everything, except for the sound of Phoenix's voice. It was amazing. He was on tune; his voice was smooth, that Miles couldn't help but gape at him. He didn't know Phoenix could sing like that.

_Oh yeah, I'll tell you something__  
><em>_I think you'll understand__  
><em>_When I say that something__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand_

_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand_

_Oh please say to me__  
><em>_You'll let me be your man__  
><em>_And please say to me__  
><em>_You'll let me hold your hand_

_You'll let me hold your hand__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>

Miles didn't even register the words. He only listened to the tune, as Phoenix sang and danced around his office.

_And when I touch you I feel happy inside__  
><em>_It's such a feeling that my love__  
><em>_I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide_

_Yeah, you got that something__  
><em>_I think you'll understand__  
><em>_When I say that something__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand_

_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand_

_And when I touch you I feel happy inside__  
><em>_It's such a feeling that my love__  
><em>_I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide_

_Yeah, you got that something__  
><em>_I think you'll understand__  
><em>_When I feel that something__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand_

_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>_I want to hold your hand__  
><em>

Phoenix began to writhe in a seizure like way, and shocked Miles out of reverie.

"Wright! Are you alright?" Miles knocked Phoenix onto the carpeted floor, frantically grabbing for his pulse.

"Jeez, Miles, I'm fine! Why are you so worried?" Phoenix brushed Miles's hand away from his neck and stared at him in the eye.

"Well…you were writhing in a seizure-like manner…."

"Paul McCartney did that in the music video! I only copied him."

"…" With that, Miles turned his back on Phoenix and started his way back to his desk. His ears were turning red, from rage, shame-he didn't know.

"Hey." Miles heard Wright's voice and stopped, but refused to turn around. Phoenix took Miles's stopping as an indication of being listened to.

"At least help me up here."

With a sigh, Miles turned around and walked back to where Phoenix was laying down, and he outstretched his hand. Phoenix took it and pulled himself up.

When they were both standing up straight, Miles tried to retreat back to his desk, but his hand was trapped. He pulled on it, but Phoenix wouldn't let go.

"Wright. Let go of my hand."

"No."

Miles sighed. Phoenix was staring at his hand like it was some sort of diamond he'd found lying around. His eyes were wide and sparkling; he looked like he wanted to touch it, but then was afraid that it would break any second.

Very slowly, Phoenix placed his thumb on top of Miles's hand, then very gently began to rub circles on it. After a few moments, his azure eyes met Miles's stormy gray ones, and they were lost in each other's eyes, communicating without words, without actions.

Phoenix was the first one to break the silence. He cleared his throat and Miles looked away, breaking the contact. It was silent for a few seconds, but Miles could feel that Phoenix was smiling.

"Well, at least now I got to hold your hand."

Miles walked over to Phoenix and smacked the back of his head. "You idiot."

"Love you too, jerk."

And ever since then, Miles always allowed Phoenix to hold his hand. While they walked, while they sat, whenever they can.

And Phoenix was right. The spaces between his fingers were right where Miles's fit perfectly. Their hands were hopelessly tangled in their own embrace, their own love story, and in Miles's hand, he found home.


End file.
